


Homesick

by zippy



Category: Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: Atlantis, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, a lil, but all booboos get kissed I promised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zippy/pseuds/zippy
Summary: Ina and Gura would have never guessed, that in the ruins of Atlantis, they'd find where they belonged.
Relationships: Gawr Gura/Ninomae Ina'nis
Comments: 6
Kudos: 105





	Homesick

_ “What is the worst thing about it, Ninomae?” _

Every being brave enough to approach her has said some variation, seeking to understand the horrors in which the Priestess perceives. Ina recognizes that morbid curiosity, for it was her own that made her enter the shrine, & open the Book all those years ago. Ina’nis Ninomae tells them all what they want to hear:

“In the visions, there are shapes, dimensions, and perspectives unnatural to our world. Every law and rule in our universe is broken before me, proving that what you and I know to be true is in place only because They are not here to destroy it.”

Fear and pity are the top two contenders in reaction, along with an underlying satisfaction in being able to hear such things and still be standing, alive, before her. Nearly everyone leaves with a newfound appreciation for life and the world around them, and she knows her own deteriorating mind is a small price to pay for the happiness of another. Doing good with Their powers, Ina feels, is her scathing response to the Ancient Ones who try to corrupt her so.

But the robotic responses and surface level conversations only work when the people asking are strangers. Never had Ina expected to find friends who cared about her. Not Ina’nis, not the Priestess, but the woman inside who had an appreciation for art, or watching the sunset, or the smell the morning after it rained.

When Gura asks, “How bad is it, Ina? What’s the worst of it?” It’s full of concern and promise. Gura loved her with every inch of her heart, and Ina knew she couldn’t give her the same response as others.

“The worst part,” Ina says, “Is that I feel at ease in the visions, when the Gods bring me There.”

Gura’s eyes widen just a bit, but she doesn’t say anything. Ina continues.

“I don’t know, I guess it's…like — understand that my mind is not just my own.” She taps her temple. “It’s Theirs, and Theirs is mine. There’s a familiarity about the place They take me to that I haven’t felt in ages, if ever.” Ina shrugs from where they sat on the picnic blanket. The park is loud and alive, and the flowers are in bloom in preparation for Spring. Ina thinks being with Gura feels a little like that all the time.

“Sometimes I long for it.” Ina says this slowly. It’s the first time she’s saying it outloud, and really the first time she’s thought about it truly. “A place where I can be understood. Not questioned. Comfortable. I’d probably replace an arm with a tentacle to go There, consciously, just once. And savor that feeling.”

Gura nods with an awareness that surprises Ina. She doesn’t say anything, just moves her fingers to run along the back of Ina’s hand. She draws a shape, and Ina stares at the planes of her gentle face. Gura expressed herself in actions more than words, Ina knew, and took her silence as solidarity. She notices that the shape Gura draws feels suspiciously like a sad face, and then a heart. Ina chuckles at that.

They enjoy their picnic, and it isn’t until Ina is in bed that night, tangled between the sheets and Gura’s warmth that Gura finally responds.

“Would you come with me, Ina, to Atlantis?” It’s a whisper. It's meek. It’s a voice Ina hadn’t heard from Gura since the beginning — when they were shy and their feelings for each other became more. 

“Of course.” Ina smiles fondly, and kisses the edge of Gura’s mouth as a million questions race through her mind.

Soon, they rent a boat, and Gura sails them for many days, and many nights across the Atlantic. Gura is all skill and sureness at the helm, and at night Ina marvels at the way Gura looks at the stars, calculating, guiding them with the constellations. It’s a reminder of Gura’s knowledge, the things she knows, and the things Ina doesn’t know. Wise, from thousands of years of existing. Learning. Growing. Just as she. It’s the foundation of their relationship, maybe. That unsaid understanding of moving forward and being better, when forward seemed never-ending. 

“Love you,” Ina mumbles into Gura’s shoulder, hugging her from behind as the shark leans against the side of the boat. The night is cool, and the waters here are forgivingly calm. The moon blankets them kindly, and the stars wink in their devotion. Ina pretends that Gura is stiff because she’s cold, and not because she’s nervous beyond her limits. 

Two days pass before Ina gets it. They had not moved from where the waters were calm and the nights stayed cool. It's in the way Gura stares across the water like she fears it, pities it. 

This, Ina realizes, is where the great city sunk. 

The sun is high when Ina grasps Gura’s hand from where she stood at the stern, staring at their reflection in the deep blue. They turn to each other, and Gura’s eyes are pleading. Ina brushes her lips across her lover’s knuckles.

“Okay,” Ina whispers, and she pulls them both into the water.

It takes a moment for Ina’s eyes to adjust, and another for the tentacles and the aquatic breathing to kick in. Gura stares at her, floating and in awe, as if asking, ‘Are you okay? Can we do this?’

Ina just squeezes her hand, and Gura guides them linked, down, down, down. 

It's a long while. A long, long while until Atlantis comes into view.

Broken, and overtaken buildings of ancient brilliance jut from the sandy sea floor at odd angles. Gura leads them between the crumbling structures with a certainty Ina knew came from having roamed these streets many times; Before. Her heart aches.

They come into a clearing, an X-cross road which may have been the center of the empire long ago. Buildings of breathtaking design, discernible even now despite their missing pieces and cracks, surround them. Towers and stadiums that were once shining gold and topaz blue, are now corroded and dim under the sea foliage and unrelenting wear of the ocean. 

Gura lets go, and lands at the center, back facing Ina. Her eyes drift over the crippled expanse. The sand around her feet swirls, and the fractured cobblestone of the street is revealed. A school of fish passes in the space between them. It serves to remind them just how  _ still _ Atlantis is now. All of this, Ina thinks, used to be awake. Used to be hers.

Ina realizes why Gura meant to bring them here.

A place to be understood. Unquestioned. Comfortable. 

Was it worse to never have it at all, or to have it and then, suddenly, never again?

Ina imagines the guilt must be excruciating. To carry an entire era, civilization, and culture, in your mind. To survive when all those before and after you perished. No one, but yourself and your memories to reminisce with. It’s a testament to Gura’s resolve, and Ina feels pained and revering all at once.

It worsens when Gura crouches and her shoulders shake, and she is thankful that the ocean swallows her tears. Ina moves, and reaches for her. Her hand gently curls over Gura’s shoulder, and she feels the thousands, and thousands of years of grief. Regret. Bitterness.

Ina wonders what she would want—what she would  _ need _ in a situation like this. If she had a place to call home and knew it was the last time it’d ever be, what would she demand?

Ina closes her eyes. Concentrates. She stretches for the Ancient Ones and they welcome her with open arms. She funnels Their power to the forefront of her mind, and then wades for Gura’s.

She’d hardly used this power, for it was malevolent in its original nature. To manipulate someone's mind, to pull from the depths of their brain and morph the reality before them: It was sick. But today. Now. She found another way to use Their power for good.

Her mind prods Gura’s gently, and Ina feels the shark tense. She squeezes Gura’s shoulder.

_ It's okay. I’ve got you. _

Gura’s weak resistance fades away, and Ina enters. It’s always jarring to see memories that aren’t your own. Ones that are so clearly someone else's. Ina tries her best to preserve some privacy, and pushes back. Back. Back. Back to when Atlantis stood tall and Gura bathed in blissful naivety. Along the way several faces stick out to her, as the memories glow bright and with love. Her own. Amelia. Calliope. Kiara. And then the moments dim. Before Gura met them, now, and it's a while before they glow again. Parents. Siblings. Old friends. Past loves.

Then Ina sees Atlantis in all her gorgeous grandeur, and she marvels at it. To lose this and more, Ina thinks, is beyond devastating. Gura shifts uncomfortably, and Ina is reminded that the prodding of the mind is not pleasant. She plants a part of herself there, just for the time being and then resurfaces. Another concentration, a surge of power, and a curious Ancient God watching distantly.

Ina opens her eyes, and observes as the decimated structures around them begin to rebuild. Atlantis comes to life, mirroring the way Gura remembers it. 

Glistening gold and silver buildings, with bright blue accents. Humanoid citizens walking, chatting, and eating all around them. A language Ina doesn’t know fills the air. The sand fades away and the water drains. The sky is blue. The sun is hot. Gura peers up from between her knees and her mouth gapes.

“I-it’s...” She is unable to finish. She stands, and Ina follows her around silently.

Every inch and corner of the city is reconstructed, and Gura takes her time. She knows this is it. The last time. And this time, she’s ready for it. Her fingers graze the sides of buildings and benches, touch the unique plants that grow alongside the street, and closes her eyes to better listen to the conversations around her. 

When they make it back to the center of the city, where the roads cross each other, Gura turns to her, eyes watery. She clasps Ina’s hands in hers and the tears stream down her cheeks. Ina pulls the rest of herself from Gura’s mind, and as the power relinquishes its hold on the shark, the great city around them crumbles once more. Ina worries it could break Gura, seeing it fall for the second time, but Gura doesn’t look. Her eyes never leave Ina as the sun gives way to the dark of the ocean and the sand swallows the stones below their feet. The structures are humbled, and wilt again, embracing their rot and decay. It's horrifying in the most fascinating way, and Ina has an even deeper appreciation for Gura and her strength.

“Thank you.” Gura says with so much emotion that Ina is breathless, “For letting me say goodbye.”

They kiss in the ruins of the forgotten city and it is there Ina realizes familiarity in places is overrated. She’s felt it all along, in Gura’s lips, and mannerisms, and presence.  _ That _ , Ina finalizes, is what Gura wanted to tell her since the beginning. 

When Ina pulls away, she laughs. “You could have just told me, Dork. That it’s you.” 

Gura gives her a dopey look. “Naw, too self-centered don’t you think? But, um, for the record.  It’s you, too.”

They beam at each other, the words somehow deeper than any ‘ _I_ _ love you _ ’ could ever be.

Days later, after the wear of sailing and the tiredness of emotional release passed, Ina enters their home after a long day, making a beeline for the one she loved most. She finds her in the kitchen, and Gura revels in the softness of Ina’s body pressing against hers, the arms coming to encircle her, and the kiss placed at her forehead.

_ "D’awe _ , you miss me or somethin’?” Gura teases. 

“No,” Ina shakes her head, a small smile at her lips. “Just a little homesick.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find homes in people because places are overrated. Also, shoutout to ninthsnow on ao3 for sparking this takosame agenda. 
> 
> Come hang with me on twitter @ZLPPYS sometime. ^ . ^


End file.
